Around the World: New York
by arrows and bites
Summary: He said bye to his past. She said that her past isn't hers. But when one of Clint's old nightmares become reality, Strike Team Delta must do everything in their power to prevent it. Amongst chaos and losses, both Clint and Natasha learn that their past will always be theirs. Clintasha, Strike Team Delta, Pre-Avengers.
1. It Just Keeps On Coming Back

_After reading **New York **by **Aggie2011**, I was inspired to start my series of my own - I'm trying not to copy her work, nevertheless take on the same storyline; I'm aiming towards a different situation, characters, problems. But honestly, her fanfics are one of the best - no joke - fics I've ever read. I guarantee that you'll enjoy them! Right now, I hear a pair of assassins waiting for their story to be read, so without further ado, I give you: **Around the World: New York**! _

_Clintasha, Strike Team Delta, Pre-Avengers _

_I didn't have an authentic translator so I used Google Translate, enjoy!_

* * *

Natasha looked at Clint who was asleep. He'd come in late last night - probably after another life-threatening mission that he'd pulled off as if it was nothing - bloodied and tired but with a weary smile. A deep and passionate kiss that he immediately gave her made up for the 2 weeks he was away washed out all the trepidation from her. He'd been in New Zealand, assassinating 3 groups of mercenaries after watching them for a week, at least, according to him. She knew he was tired - flying solo to and back from New Zealand to New York wasn't easy, especially after a dangerous solo mission. But it came with the job they'd signed up for; it didn't mean that they liked it, though.

Her head snapped right back to him when she felt him flinch and suppress a low groan. His nightmares were hitting again, now added along with the injuries he hadn't cleaned up yesterday. Clint's neck snapped to the other side of the bed, his face now heading towards her. His brows were furrowed and he was slightly sweating, his right hand was clenched and the other hand was under his pillow, most likely around his knife. Natasha sympathetically sighed and dared to wake him up - it pained her in more than words could say when her hawk was in pain. She slowly went near him and tapped on his forearm, quickly backing away as Clint jackknifed his body upwards with the knife held out in a defensive position in front of him.

"Clint," she started slowly, not wanting to escalate the situation in violent manners, "_Clint_! Look at me, you're okay." Natasha snapped, watching as her partner's eyes cleared rapidly and he drew in deep breaths. "What was it tonight?" She asked. He still had a death grip on his knife, but some of the tension was lost.

"New Zealand." He bluntly replied, spiking her curiosity and concern. What _had_ happened on that mission? For one, nothing could shake Clint; was he okay? By the slight tightness around his eyes and the way he was stiffly sitting up, he was _not okay_. She'd been so excited and happy to see him that she'd forgotten to check his injuries - it didn't happen often, but yes, she'd forgotten to. That was also why he'd immediately gone to sleep with back ramrod straight and stiff. She getting more worried by the second. Impatiently, she tapped on his arm, indicating to go on.

"Some bruises, lacerations, and aftermath of _torture_. The mercs were prepared for SHIELD, Nat. _We_ weren't ready, and they fucking tortured me for a good 3 days until I broke out and killed them all. I was so stupid; 6 rounds of waterboarding, electrocutions - tasers with their cartridges _taken out_ \- guns and knives, good old fashioned beat ups, you know, all that basic torture shit for 3 days." Clint's eyes were full of annoyance - appointed towards _him_ for being unprepared. He huffed a humorless laugh. Yet her breath caught in her throat, and moisture pooled in her eyes. She knew he could see her face clearly, and he quirked his mouth into a ghostly unnoticeable smile.

"But Phil cleaned me up, so I'm fine, Tasha." She didn't believe him and was pretty sure her doubt and worry were evident in her expression. "I promise. Не волнуйся, Наташа, я в порядке." _Don't worry, Natasha, I'm fine._ He placed his hand on top of hers. His knuckles were ripped and bloodied from his earlier activities, blood still leaking out a bit.

"Никогда не скрывай эти вещи от меня, Клинт." _Don't ever hide those things from me, Clint._ She put every ounce of affection, worry, care, and trust in her tone.

"Я обещаю," _I promise_. He sincerely whispered right back. They wouldn't hide their pain from each other - not when they were already so conflicted with pain.

* * *

"I just don't know how they knew, sir." He heard Phil talk to Fury. Phil could be a serious mother hen when it came to him or Natasha; now he was trying to convince Fury that there was a leak in the New York base - someone who sold Clint to the mercs because they found out about his New Zealand mission details. Clint sighed and dragged his hand down his face. He was fine, really; he'd gotten in a few good sparring matches with Natasha and had finished his private training with Phil already, despite in "a condition" that he "shouldn't be taking anything too roughly" according to Phil. But that was a bunch of bullshit because he was fine. And if someone _did_ target him and try to kill him, he'd need to be ready - for Natasha and Phil.

He looked up when Coulson came out of the briefing room with a frustrated face. "So he said no, didn't he?" Already knowing the answer, he ignored the mild glare he received and went on. "Phil, I'm fine. You even admitted that this morning, so you can relax. I've all healed up anyway."

"Clint you don't get it -" Phil countered, but he cut off whatever his handler was saying as Natasha approached them.

"I _do_ get it, Phil - hell, better than anyone. But I'm not that same 17 year old, am I?" He snapped. He saw Natasha arch her eyebrow at Phil.

"Агент Севилья - единственный." _Agent Seville is the one._ She whispered in his ear. "Три часа допроса, и он наконец все разлил." _Three hours of interrogation and he finally spilled it all._ She was smirking proudly now; he saw Coulson narrow his eyes in suspicion besides him.

"В самом деле? Путь, Романофф." _Really? Way to go, Romanoff._ He snorted a laugh as her eyes brightened up at the joking banter.

"Я скучал по этому Клинту Бартону, с возвращением, ястреб." _I missed that Clint Barton, welcome back, hawk._

"Все для тебя, вдова." _Anything for you, widow._

Coulson cleared his throat and they immediately changed back to English, barely sending Phil any form of apology.

"What are you guys up to?" Phil's expected question made Clint morph his face into a blank expression, Natasha's face nearly identical.

"I interrogated agent Seville for three hours - you're welcome." Natasha proudly stated.

"You _what_? Natasha, you know that's against protocol -" Phil started to protest.

"Phil, I'll say this once and only once; fuck protocol. You were worried about me? Well here ya go, I've been taking care of this New Zealand shit for a while now; I recently told Nat so calm down." Clint interrupted with a tone hard enough to shatter stone.

He knew Phil had to give in one way or the other. A series of mixed emotions passed through their handler's eyes. Finally, Coulson held up a hand in submission - he was "approving" their off-grid investigation. With a swelling mix of pride and cockiness, he faced Phil to take on the obvious follow-up question. "So what have we got?" Phil asked in an exasperated tone. Clint smirked, too easy.

"I have a lead," Clint said.

The New York base now had a Strike Team under an off-radar investigation - Clint would be ready, even if it meant risking his life. Those New Zealand bastards were going fucking down.

* * *

Natasha grimaced as Clint showed her the torture sessions. SHIELD was brutal when it came to high-level covert operatives like Clint - they didn't do rescues, but Clint survived again. In some ways, she hated being the killer she was. But Clint was a survivor who'd turned into a killer to survive. So was she. And she found peace in the fact that they were even in these dark aspects. She wasn't the only one with demons, after all. Hell, Clint had worse demons than her.

"So a call from Venice?" Clint abruptly asked. She nodded, slightly startled by the sudden noise. "Does that mean Seville got the call from the Venice base or a Venetian who was one of my targets?"

"I'm leaning towards the base option. A leak is better than a previous target trying to create vendetta against you." Phil answered. She frowned, she still felt as if something was off here. How had they known he was coming, but not who he was? It was odd and unlikely for the mercs to _not know_ who Clint was when they were already ready for him.

"Clint, I need you to lay out the details of that mission," she started, connections forming in her mind. "and try to remember if any of your victims that you killed as a contract assassin matches up with this situation." She eyed him warily, knowing the risks of her request. People like them were hard to pull back to the surface when so many demons were constantly attacking them. It was like a neverending mental battle, one could say.

Realization dawned in Clint's eyes and his face showed deep concentration. "McKellan. Adrian McKellan, a famous drug dealer who had a partner in some African and European countries; managed to kill Spain's general with his drugs. A guy named Harvey Dawson hired me to kill off McKellan and his group. He was target number 318, and he had..." Clint trailed off. Pain, guilt, and shame passed over his eyes. "he had a son. The kid was named Alex McKellan, 4 when I killed his dad. I visited him years back to check on him; he'd become a drug lord like his father." Now his hands were balled up into fists and his tone had dropped an octave lower, a dangerous tone he used _towards himself_.

"It's him, I just know it. McKellan was one of the only ones who had their child see them die. The other children, I killed off because the other guys who'd hired me told me to but McKellan... I didn't. Dawson had ordered me just to kill the kid's dad, not the whole family. But goddamn it, I should've killed him! I should've killed off that whole town, then you guys wouldn't have to be a part of this mess." Clint was practically snarling, his voice lower and full of venom. Then his eyes turned helpless. He whispered a single phrase that broke her heart.

"I'm sorry."

Her hawk sounded broken; shattered and scattered, unable to fix. Darkness was seeping into his demeanor and voice again - and she couldn't do anything but to ache for him and be _terrified_. She was fucking terrified of this man before her, and she'd met a lot of dangerous men in her life. Yet Clint Barton fucking scared her. She dared to admit, but her hawk was by far the deadliest man she'd ever encountered.

"Клинт, все в порядке. Никто не обвиняет тебя." _Clint, it's okay. No one's blaming you._ Russian rolled out of her mouth before she could stop it. Phil's face immediately changed to exasperation and confusion.

"_Я_ сделал. МакКеллан сделал. Я облажался." I_ did. McKellan did. I fucked up. _The pain and guilt in his voice made her expression soften; Phil still seemed confused by the sudden change of language. _I got this, you can go._ She mouthed to Phil, who gave her a grateful nod and stepped out of the room.

"Вы не облажались, Доусон. И если мы будем сражаться," She grasped Clint's hand, prying the fisted hand open and squeezing it. "Я буду на вашей стороне. Я твой смертельный паук, Клинт." _You didn't fuck up, Dawson did. And if we have to fight, I'll be by your side. I'm your deadly spider, Clint._ She wrapped him into a hug and placed her forehead on his collarbone.

They stayed like that for a few moments until Clint's voice rumbled out.

"But if I get lost, I need you to stay away from me until I sort things all out." She removed her head from him and gave him an incredulous look which he shook his head at and continued, "I can't handle all this darkness, but I know how to let it out. It'll be dangerous - hell, I might kill some people if I get lost. So I need you to stay away. Give me space when I get lost, Nat."

She knew he was worried. Unlike her, Clint couldn't snap out of the faze of his own darkness. Instead, he got darker, deadlier than before. It terrified her to imagine the moment when he'd be lost. So she nodded, she'd do whatever in her power to help him.

"I'm sorry." Clint murmured against her scalp.

"For what?"

"For me. I'm sorry that you have to deal with me." A sad smile was on Clint's lips.

"Shut up." And she pushed his head towards her, crashing her lips on top of his. Alex McKellan could go fuck himself because her hawk was only for her.

* * *

A muscle in his jaw ticked as his personal doctor Joseph Benson slapped a bandage on his fresh set of bruised ribs.

"Kid, why don't you get hurt even more? Yeah, that'll give me even more time to lose sleep than I already do." Benson grumbled as he took out another bandage.

Clint didn't answer; McKellan's eyes were so animated as if he was standing right in front of him.

"Barton? Hey, Barton!" Benson reached out to shake his arm.

The moment Benson's arm latched onto his shoulder, Clint reacted. He took the doctor's wrist and twisted it, leaving the poor infirmary agent's torso laid bare. He struck out with his other arm and landed 2 hits on Benson's stomach when another set of hands landed on his arms, restraining him. Instinctively, Clint fought back.

"Clint, snap out of it! It's Phil, look at me!" The voice was yelling at him.

_What the hell_? Clint stopped fighting back and let go of the arms. Confusion took over his consciousness and he went rigid. _The fuck_? He shook his head to clear his glassy eyes and focused on Benson who was doubling over with his arms covering his stomach and Phil worriedly looking at him. The dots connected in his head and he inwardly cursed. Shit, he'd thought that Benson had been McKellan.

"I'm sorry. I -" he stopped and closed his mouth shut, his eyes zeroing in on the wall.

"_Baby bro, you should've joined us._" Barney slowly formed into a clear shape, a knife in his hand.

"_Daddy!_" Another voice, Alex McKellan. He'd recognize that grieving cry anywhere because _he_ had caused it. Alex had lost his father because of him.

"_It didn't have to be this way, Clint_." Searing pain flared across his upper right chest. He subconsciously clawed at the old knife scar, trying to push the pain away. When the pain only intensified, he fumbled and reached into his pocket, taking out a knife. He swung it dangerously in front of him, forcing Barney and Alex to step back. A cruel smile painted on Barney's lips while Alex's steely anger-filled eyes full of vengeance stared menacingly at him.

"Clint?" He heard Phil's voice and opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn't.

"Bar... ney..." Clint choked out, still clawing at his chest.

He knew Benson and the nurse would be confused but Phil understood. He heard Phil turn around and say exactly what he wanted to happen.

"Call Natasha. I don't care if it's against infirmary protocols or not, call her unless you want to have an assassin killing off people." Phil knew him better than most people. A sound of protest rose but was quickly drowned out by Phil's loud command that had the nurse moving almost right away.

Clint opened his mouth in a silent show of pain as the scar intensified. He dropped the knife, the blade cutting his leg a little and clattering to the floor. He knew he was bleeding now but he wasn't sure if it was his leg or chest. Then all of a sudden, red came into his sight.

"Clint, look at me. Focus on my voice." Natasha was here. "Barney's not here, okay? You're okay, мой ястреб, breathe." _You're okay, __my hawk, breathe._ He felt her hands press down on the cut on his leg to stop the bleeding and he gasped in sharp breathes as he felt in control of himself again. "Наташа..." _Natasha..._ he breathed out.

Her soothing voice filled his ears and relief flooded through him. "Я здесь, любовь моя." _I'm here now, my love._

Natasha's voice was the last thing he registered before he lost consciousness.

* * *

Natasha pressed down on Clint's leg with her left hand and caught his head with her right as Clint lost consciousness. "Clint! Benson, help me with him."

Benson, who'd been standing off awkwardly and alarmed to the side, hurried forward to help her with Clint. "Romanoff, what the hell was that?" He asked with a sharp tone, catching her attention.

"You..." she sighed. Clint was going to get mad at her for telling Benson this. "you got him at the wrong moment. Clint, well, he's been trying to move on from his past because you know as we do, he didn't necessarily have the nicest past."

Benson was now watching her with rapt attention, his jaw locked.

"And I caught him in one of his nightmares - wait, he gets nightmares even in consciousness? How the hell does that work?"

"Benson, we're covert operatives. More specifically, active field agents who're spies and assassins." Natasha explained with an exasperated voice. She lightly placed her hand on top of Clint's and forehead and stroke his hair back. "He didn't mean it, he already blames himself for so much; just don't hold it against him."

"Romanoff, I may not be a field agent, but I understand enough of a painful past. Besides, the kid looked like he'd been through much more than his age since he came into SHIELD. I get it."

"But you'll never _fully_ understand. I'm sorry you had to see Clint like that."

"No no, it's all good. Now I'll go get some bandages and medicine for him, you take care of him." Benson clapped her on her shoulder with a sympathetic glance and left them.

She cupped Clint's face with her hands and pressed a light kiss on his forehead. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Unexpectedly, she had a flashback to a moment she'd shared with Clint in Bangkok.

_22:58, Bangkok_

_"I don't care if you don't trust me. I want you to know that I need you to stay silent no matter what. Don't say anything about me, you, or SHIELD. Anonymity is our greatest liability as covert operatives; they'll want to know who I am - I'm pretty sure you know all of this but don't say anything about me. Nothing, especially about SHIELD, you understand, Romanoff?"_

_"I..." _

_She'd felt genuine fear and awe of Barton. All her time at SHIELD, she'd only known the cocky, talkative Hawkeye. Even in missions, he talked nonstop. But his serious side... now that she'd seen it, she wasn't so sure anymore. Barton was unpredictable and that threw her off._

_"Romanoff, that wasn't a question. It's a confirmation."_

_"I do."_

_Their captors slammed the door open and walked in as soon as her words had come out of her mouth. Barton was staring at her with such an intensity that she could understand what he was trying to tell her even without talking. _

_Don't, his eyes spoke. don't worry about me, just stay silent._

_"__คุณคือใคร?" _Who are you?_ The captor spoke in Thai and she cursed inwardly, she didn't know the language but Barton did._

_"คุณทำงานเพื่อใคร?" _Who do you work for?_ Another mercenary spoke with such ferocity that she was slight - if not barely - impressed with how they treated their hostages. Definitely trained._

_She clenched her jaw as she saw their captor's patience run out. He barked an order, which she soon realized that he wanted them to basically beat Barton up to death. Never in her life had she felt such guilt. She was the fucking_ Black Widow_, wasn't she? But this man... he changed her. What was it? Yes, it was amazement. She was marveled at how __Barton didn't make a single noise even as the mercs began to pummel him with their fists. Some were even using metal bars. That should've hurt him, but Natasha realized belatedly that Barton was fucking terrifying. He was strong, stronger than any other person she'd ever seen. No man could have a deadly accuracy like Barton, nor were they so skilled in combat that his skills rivaled her own. She knew he had terrible nightmares and far worse demons than her. She was a result of the Red Room, but Barton was a product of his own life. While she was training to become the weapon she was today, Barton had been probably trying to survive. _

_A bunch of words that she couldn't understand came out of their merc's mouth. Blood was flowing out Barton as if he were a fountain but his stormy blue eyes held its intensity of his glare. A muscle in his jaw ticked as one of the mercs began to use his knife on him. His eyes narrowed in annoyance and his eyes abruptly found hers. Then the unexpected happened. Barton smiled - a genuine smile that had proudness, appreciation, and encouragement. _

_"หากคุณคิดว่าคุณจะได้อะไรจากเราลองคิดใหม่ก่อนที่เราจะฆ่าพวกคุณทุกคน." _If you think that you'll get anything out of us, think again before we kill you guys all._ Thai came out of Barton's mouth as if it were his first language. She stifled a smirk as their captor's eyes narrowed and grunted frustratedly. _

_It was that moment when she realized, yes, she _did_ trust - not just the temporary trust, but the bone-deep trust that was earned - Barton. And maybe, just maybe, she even loved him after all._

Natasha snapped out of her stupor as she felt moisture pool in her eyes. She willed them to go away and rather tightened her grip on Clint's hand. That had been the moment she'd learned that not only was Clint an amazing person, but fucking dangerous.

From there, they'd advanced deeper into their relationship; they learned more and more about each other, their childhoods and pains, for one. And she'd learned what it meant to love. To be loved. Clint came into her life all of a sudden, but he'd changed her. He taught her English, aiming, acrobatics, and living through all the bullshit. She taught him more moves(for he'd already been excelling and rivaled her own skills in combat) and Russian. From a ticking time bomb that was called _Strike Team Delta_, they'd changed into "the most effective and deadliest strike team in SHIELD history". How had this all happened? One man named Clint Barton had unexpectedly made a different call and spared her life, that was what had started everything.

In her short yet long life, she'd met so many different people. Some were obnoxiously confident, some had serious problems, but no one had been this life-changing as Clint. He was a killing machine, like her. Broken pasts, dripping ledgers, and lethal skills. But he was also a great lover. Unlike Alexi, Clint knew how to love. Maybe it was because they never knew what being loved felt like. But one thing was for sure. She _loved_ him. He was a part of her, and she was his. Nothing could ever change that.

* * *

_Hey heyy, look who finally decided to upload? Lol, hope yall are enjoying it so far. I'll try to upload asap - as soon as i take care of some stuff ill get right back to writing and posting :)) _

_see yall later! _


	2. Make The Pain Go Away

_Woooow look who decided to pop their head in and start writing again? ME *obnoxiously waves hand*! I took a little break since things were getting a bit too hectic with life, school, and all that... but I'm back y'all! I feel like people are going to point this out, so let me make this clear. **I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! IF I DID, A FRANCHISE OF MOVIES WOULD ALREADY BE PLANNED OUT**(lol). But asides from that, I'm so, so, SO happy to be back :)))) anyways, enjoy the second chapter to __**Around the World: New York**__!_

_Clintasha, Strike Team Delta, Pre-Avengers_

_I didn't have an authentic translator so I had to use Google Translate! Sorry if some of the translations are odd or wrong. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Are you sure?" Natasha asked.

Clint chewed on his lip, contemplating his answer.

"Yeah, I am. Tash, I need to do this. McKellan has to be stopped, for me, you, Phil, and SHIELD. He's like a ticking time bomb. But I know I can handle it."

"Okay. Just, you know, don't leave too early."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Seconds ticked by, and Clint touched his forehead to Natasha's. None of them spoke.

Natasha spoke up first. "It's stupid, giving you a mission - _on your own to observe McKellan_ \- when we already know that Fury passed the mission. He's probably going to let us go like in a few days, or whatever. I mean, you can obviously handle everything on your own but it just gets me worried.'

"I'm not going to die, Nat. I _promise _you. I'll come back." He brushed her jawline with his thumb.

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know, I don't want to leave you. But it's what we signed up for, remember? Не беспокойся обо мне." _Don't worry about me._

"Ладно. Я люблю тебя. Возвращайся скорее." _Okay. I love you. Come back soon._

"I'll try, моя любовь. I'll check in with you and Phil as soon as I get there." _I'll try, my love. _Clint stood up first, shouldering his bow and duffel bag. He let out a deep breath, pecked Natasha once more, and headed out. Outside, Phil was waiting for him. Every mission since Natasha, Phil had always been waiting for him outside the door. Mother hen? Yes. Did he mind? Hell no.

"Check in, Barton," Phil instructed him. "and come back to us, will you?"

"Copy that, Coulson."

"Stay safe out there, kid."

"Yeah, catch you later, Phil."

* * *

Natasha looked around Clint's empty room. It felt weird - and although it wasn't the first time that Clint left her - not having him by her side.

_Calm down, Romanoff. He's coming back._ Goddamn it, when had she become so dependent?

Two knocks were knocked, and she looked up to see Phil coming in. She didn't have to say anything to know that he too, was feeling the same as her.

"He's coming back, Natasha. It's only for two days."

"I know. 'Cause if he doesn't, I'm going to drag his ass back up from hell myself." She smirked, seeing Phil shake his head. "You know what, tell me more about him. I feel like, even after everything, I still don't know him perfectly."

She smiled a genuine smile when Phil looked up with a hint of surprise on his face. He immediately broke into a wide grin.

"That little shit... he's always been a pain in my ass ever since I've met him. I'm pretty sure you know that, too. But Clint, he was a different type of pain. One moment, he's joking around and all relaxed - if he ever was. Then, he can morph into either this cold-blooded killer or the best agent you've ever seen. You've sparred with him, and you obviously know that while others might take him as being careless, relaxed, and unprepared, he's actually ready for anything.

"He likes to put himself in the line of fire because he knows how it feels like to be an innocent victim. Maybe too well. But you, Natasha, you've saved him. You brought him out from his darkness." Phil smiled at her.

The longing ache of worry slowly wore off, and she smiled back.

"No, Phil, he's saved himself. Rather, he saved _me_. He's the strongest person I've ever met; the most terrifying and dangerous, too. Every time we spar, 5 of 10, it's either me winning or him. And he's such a natural at fighting. At almost anything. I think that's why I admire him."

"I know what you're saying. You know, sometimes, I admire him, too. When I look back at myself, I see an overreactive, mother henning, goody-two-shoes, who calls himself an agent of SHIELD. But when I see Clint, I see darkness, deep strength, and power that lurks inside of him. He's a rebel; willing to break the rules to save a life. He's skilled; best covert operative I've seen, and his scores are off-grid. You two, you guys make a pair. Deadly, strong, and most importantly, brave." Phil glanced at Natasha, who was fidgeting with her clothes. "Your pasts matter. But you need to learn how to step over them and become stronger. You have experience. Don't your past drag you down."

"Has... has _he_ learned how to step over them? Am I really worse than him? Do I have more blood on my hands?" She could feel her hands starting to lightly tremble. She tightened them into fists, her nails digging into her palm. The pain helped her clear her mind.

"Clint? No, definitely not. And you're not worse than him, Natasha; the blood on both of your guyses hands is quite even, considering the fact that you worked for an organization while Clint signed up contracts. You guys are both equally guilt-ridden. I can see it, in everything that you guys do. But that's exactly why I'm here. For you and for him. Lighten up, Romanoff. I'm here for you."

"Yeah, well thanks, Phil. I didn't realize how much I needed that." She reached out and patted Phil's shoulder.

Clint was coming back. And she knew it.

* * *

Clint pulled out his phone and entered Natasha's private line. In a few seconds, her face popped up on his screen. She broke into a wide smile the moment she saw his face.

"Hey, you." He chuckled, admiring Natasha's beauty.

"Hey, you to you, too. Let me tell you, so far, I've talked with Phil twice a day, and helped out Benson."

"Sounds like you're having fun, how's Phil?"

Natasha snorted laughter on screen. "He's constantly trying to spar with me. I've warned him, but I'm pretty sure he has some nasty bruises by now. You checked in with him today?"

"Yeah, I checked in, observed for about half of the day, organized and uploaded the intel to HQ, and I'm planning on heading back tomorrow." He smiled, seeing Natasha's eyes brighten.

"You're fast, you know that?"

He smirked at the tease. "Anything for you, Natasha."

"I miss you."

"It's only been two days, I guess you like me that much, Romanoff."

"What can I say, Barton?"

"Yeah, well, I'll see you soon, okay?"

"'Kay. I love you."

"Love you too, Nat."

Then the screen went black. Clint stared at the screen. Images of home kept on reappearing in his head. _Home._ What a funny word, it was. If it'd been only a few years back, he would've snorted at the fact that the word "home" actually meant something to him. But now, now he had a home. Sure, it was more like an in-and-out situation all the time, but there was nothing better than just that. And then there was Phil and Natasha, the two people who were like family to him. Phil, a dad he'd always wished for, and Nat, the only person in his life who made him complete, at ease, and at home. So, he knew, that he'd go back, whatever it took.

But the phone calls weren't over yet. He turned on his phone again and typed Phil's private line. In seconds, Phil's familiar voice reached his ear.

"This is Agent Coulson of the Strategic Homeland Interventions Enforcements and Logistics Divisions, go ahead."

"Hi to you too, Phil." Clint chuckled when a sudden silence filled the air. Finally, Phil let out a breath across the line.

"Sorry, just a habit. So, what's up, Clint?" Yeah, Phil was definitely loosened up now.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to check with everything back," he paused. It felt weird to say "home" so freely after his call with Natasha. "...back home."

"I guess it's a habit for you too, then." He could hear the smirk in Phil's voice. Clint rubbed the back of his head.

"Yeah, it really is."

"Anyways, everything's fine. You know, maybe I should learn some moves from Natasha."

"So I've heard. Good luck beating me, old man." He laughed as he heard Phil grumble, saying something about how he wasn't that old, or whatever. "Hey, you mind telling Nat that I'm going to be a little late? I have some stuff to sort out."

"Sure, kid. Whatcha gonna do?" He sensed the worry and fear in Phil's voice.

"Calm down Phil, I'm just going to get some leads for McKellan, nothing too major." He stopped, then inhaled. "And... and can you tell her that she's not responsible for all the kills she's done? And that her ledger is clean, now? I know I don't usually tell you this stuff..." He rubbed his face, a deep sigh slipping out. "But she's been having some major nightmares, recently. You know how it is for us, Phil."

"Yeah, yeah, sure thing, kid." The surprise was evident in Phil's voice.

"Thanks, I'll see you soon, Phil."

"See you, Clint."

Then it was only him again, alone. But things were going to change. He would stop McKellan, no matter what.

* * *

"Come in!" Natasha whipped her head around and faced the door as Phil walked in.

"Any news?" She knew Phil knew what she was talking about. A melancholy smile spread across his lips.

"Phil?" She was getting frustrated. "Oh my goodness, Phil! Just open up already!"

"He's going to be a little late," She felt the blood drain from her. "But I _promise_ you, he's coming back."

"Yeah, I believe you but... why?"

The world was rapidly spinning around her but all she could feel was panic.

"He says, and I'm quoting right from him, "I'm just going to get some leads for McKellan, nothing too major." So you don't have to worry." Phil saw a piece of vulnerability in Natasha's emerald green eyes.

"And what about Fury?" Natasha hardened her voice, unwilling to reveal her devastation. But this was Phil, she was talking to. He probably sensed and knew it anyway, so why try?

"I've handled it." Phil turned around and headed to the door.

"Thanks for telling me, Phil. I owe you one."

"You don't owe anything, Natasha." Phil stopped in his tracks, remembering Clint's final message to her. "Oh, and Natasha? Don't beat yourself up too much. He wanted me to tell you that your ledger is clean. Maybe not his but you, you're not responsible for your actions. You are the Black Widow; you're strong, powerful, and you're an influencer. I know Clint wanted me to tell you this. See you, kid." Then Phil quietly left, leaving her alone.

Natasha gripped her desk and sank down to the floor until she was squatting on the ground. She mulled over everything that Phil'd told her in the past few minutes. All she could think, though, was the fact that Clint was off on his own, right now. She'd - no, _they'd_ because her and Phil, both - promised to help him. But her stupid hawk, being the idiotic martyr he was, was now planning to go on a suicide plan.

She gripped her head in annoyance and anger, a flash of a nightmare - Clint _dying_ \- passing through her head. She roughly shook her head, trying to get rid of the image. The nightmare was so clear, though; Clint was lying on the ground, bleeding from so many places that she couldn't diagnose the main area. She saw herself huddled in the corner, reeling from the shock as Clint groaned and lifted himself up again, crawling towards her. A man holding a pistol crept up behind him. She wanted to yell out his name but her throat was closed up. The man shot. Clint slumped forward, right into her, as the bullet penetrated him.

Natasha bodily flinched when her gun slid off of her bed. Lifting her head up, she felt a sensation - _fear_ \- that she hadn't felt in years, except the time in Bangkok when Clint was tortured and in Moscow when Clint's arrow aimed upon her life.

"Not today, Clint." She murmured, slamming down her fist into her bed. "I can't let you do that to me. Not. Today."

A fire ignited in her eyes. No way in hell was her hawk going to die on her.

* * *

Clint tapped his finger on the control board, thinking over his plan. So far, he'd come up with a few ideas. He'd go to a safe house in Spain, - the current area where his contacts told him that McKellan's men were active in - follow some of those stupid idiots McKellan called "mercenaries", and take one away. As a headache came over him, he closed his eyes. The darkness that enveloped him was calming. Soothing, even. He sighed, his mind wandering to Natasha. _Natasha_. From the pit of his stomach, a deep sensation of longingness and worry clawed up to his throat. He simply missed her, and her being by his side.

He slightly jumped when the comm in his ear suddenly came to life and a familiar voice spoke.

"Clint fucking Barton. What the fuck are you doing?" Yep, she clearly was worried.

"Hey, Nat. I'm fine, relax."

"_Relax_? Are you kidding- _RELAX?_ When you're on a suicide mission? I mean, what if you get caught? What if you can't make it back? What about _me_, Clint?" Natasha was seething, worried-sick.

"I am _not_ on a suicide mission, Tasha. It's just... pre-planning." He probably sounded like a whiny toddler - but who cared?

"Yeah, pre-planning my ass. Barton, I swear to God, I will fucking murder you..." Natasha paused. He took the chance to talk.

"_If_ I get back? Yeah, yeah. Same old story, seriously, Nat, change the story a bit, won't ya?" He chuckled when she didn't respond. "Anyways, how'd you get access to my comm? Wait, don't tell me, did you hack into the system?"

"Hey, I've been practicing hacking for a while now, and since I have to go "look over" that stupid billionaire, playboy, genius, and philanthropist Tony Stark, I just thought, why not give it a try?" Natasha's anger seemed to simmer down to a reasonable level. She inhaled deeply. "Don't you dare die on me, hawk."

"Widow, you're going to have to trust me on this one."

"I do. I always do."

"Then you have to let go of me. I _have _to become Hawkeye. Not the SHIELD agent Hawkeye but the assassin Hawkeye. The one who killed over 300 people in a year. The real me. Me right now? I can't finish it. But the old one, he definitely can. You know that better than me."

"What if I don't want to? What if, and I'm not saying that you are but, what if you're too weak to pull out?"

Clint knew Natasha was right. What if he was too weak? But could he be any weaker than he was right now? Probably not.

"You know what to do." A poignant silence filled the space.

"Clint... I really, really can't do that to you. To me. To _us_. There has to be another option. Я не буду этого делать." _I won't do it._

"It's just getting a few leads, don't worry, Nat. But when the times comes, please. I need you to."

They'd talked about this before. Clint was always worried that one day, either he or she would go back to their old selves and go on a killing spree again. He'd hoped that he'd never have to reveal his old self again. But here they were, on the verge of doing so. They had also promised; if Natasha lost control, Clint would _try_ to bring her back. If he couldn't, it was time to let her go. To leave. To be the assassin she was trained for until they crossed paths again. It'd been the same conditions for Clint, except Clint had told Natasha to kill him on sight, if that ever happened, that was. She had adamantly refused, even breaking down, once.

"I love you, Natasha." He suddenly felt the need to tell her. He wanted to capture every second he had with her.

"Clint..." Natasha sighed, desperation clearly clawing at her throat. "I love you, okay? Promise you'll come back to me. Please."

"You and I both know we can't make promises that we can't keep. But I'll try. For you, Natasha."

"Я люблю тебя больше всего на свете, Клинт." _I love you more than anything, Clint._

"Я люблю тебя." _I love you_.

Clint ripped his comm out his ear. Maybe he _was_ going on a suicide mission, who knew? It was just a few leads, that was all. What could be so wrong? But one thing was for sure. He'd fucking murder McKellan and his shitheads. And... and he'd find a way to get back to _her_.

* * *

Natasha stormed down the hall, making her way to Phil's office. The agents in her way immediately moved, cowering in fear. She wasn't called the Black Widow for anything, after all.

Phil looked startled when she slammed open his door and angrily stomped in. But Natasha was too desperate and afraid to consider such things.

"We need to leave. Now." She snarled.

"Why?" Phil was definitely surprised. He hadn't been expecting such _emotions_ from her.

"Clint. He's on a fucking suicide mission and he's not dying on me. On _us_."

"Alright, let me go ask Fury-"

"WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR _FURY_, PHIL! I'm saving my partner from dying - from _me_ dying. I can't just let him go like that." All the fight seemed to drain out of her. She sighed, "You know damn well, better than anyone else how much he means to me and you."

"I do know. Fine, we're leaving. Get your things and meet me in the hangar in 10." Phil's eyes were filled with fire.

Natasha felt rage flood through her again. She was going to save Clint's ass, whether or not he liked it.

Clint Barton wasn't going to die on them. Not today, not ever.

* * *

_well that was a weird chapter! for those of you wondering, yes i kind of changed natasha's character into a character who is able to portray more of her emotions when w phil or clint. also, i have an ao3 account now! it's arrowsandbites, the same for my fanpages on tumblr and instgram! go check them out if you want to :)_

_the next chapter will take some time because i want to make those rising action-chapters a bit more longer and more descriptive. again, thank you to everyone who've been waiting and i really hope you enjoyed it!_


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